


Bar Chatter

by mixiz877



Category: Supernatural, The X-Files
Genre: Crack, Crossover, Monstertalk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:13:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24147199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mixiz877/pseuds/mixiz877
Summary: "Weird as investigating vampires?"..."Did you kill them?"..."No. The stakes didn’t really seem to work. Or rather, they just worked as long as they didn’t get removed."..."Dude, forget stakes or garlic or sunlight. You gotta take their heads off."
Comments: 12
Kudos: 33





	Bar Chatter

**Author's Note:**

> This is a crossover. It's not compliant with the original timelines. X Files is around season 6, Supernatural also around season 6/7.
> 
> For the sake of the story there is no TV show called X-Files, so I manufactured for the brothers to have learned the names of the agents via John's journal.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> 🌞

_Bindy-Sue’s Beer 'n' Snacks_ was buzzing when FBI Special Agent Fox Mulder walked in after a long day of following up on an anonymous tip that led him on a wild goose chase after an elusive UFO sighting. All tables were taken and the bar itself only yielded a few open spaces. He slid onto one of the open stools and ordered a beer as well as the menu.

  
An hour later the chili cheese burger with a side of crispy onion rings and fries was long eaten and the beer in front of him was his third. The bar was pretty deserted by now but the tables were still buzzing. Briefly he wondered if Scully had left the morgue yet.

  
The rumbling engine of a muscle car drowned out the chatter in the bar. A few moments later, the engine was cut and the rumbling ceased. A man entered through the saloon type doors and paused a moment, searching for an open spot. Mulder was watching his reflection in the mirrored liquor cabinet. The man quickly finished scanning the room and then settled at the other end of the bar. 

  
Taking a sip from his beer, Mulder looked the man over from his peripherals. Heavy boots, worn jeans, worn leather jacket that covered a plaid shirt and probably a t-shirt underneath that, 5 o’clock shadow that accented the strong jaw and short, spiky hair. He ordered a beer and the menu and Mulder chuckled to himself, when the newcomer put in the exact order he’d had an hour prior.

  
When Bindy-Sue handed the man his beer, his eyes met Mulder’s and the FBI agent lifted his glass in greeting. The man copied the greeting and was about to take a sip when his phone rang. With a sigh he put down his glass and checked the caller ID before accepting.

  
" 's up, Sammy," he asked in a voice that was definitely deeper than Mulder had expected.

  
Sammy. Just like that Mulder saw the image of his little sister in his mind. He gripped his beer tighter and took another sip. 

  
"No, I’m grabbing a bite to eat."

  
Mulder redirected his attention to the man at the other end of the bar. He was close enough to hear the words he spoke but couldn’t make out anything the man heard.

  
"Look, Sam, it was your idea to check out that neck of woods. Don’t make your problem my problem."

  
Bindy-Sue arrived with the man’s order and he tucked in, grunting replies to and rolling his eyes at whatever the other person said. Mulder wondered what the fairly one sided conversation was about and was so immersed in doing his low-key observation of the man, that he hardly noticed the bar becoming more empty.

  
"There’s only one bar in this charming little nest of Caprock, Virginia. You can’t miss me."

  
Mulder stifled a snort and quickly took a sip from his almost empty glass. The man shot him a glance and Mulder could see his green eyes sparkle. Just when he was certain green eyes would toss him a comment, the man rolled his eyes dramatically and sighed.

  
"Yes, Samantha. I’ll wait right here." He disconnected the call and affectionally added a muttered "Bitch."

  
Mulder raised his eyebrows and watched the man empty half his beer in one draught.

  
"Siblings, eh?" the agent remarked offhand and signaled to Bindy-Sue for a refill on his beer. Warily the other man gave him a once over before shrugging.

  
"It is how it is," he replied. 

  
Mulder nodded.

  
"I had a sister called Samantha once."

  
The man looked up and narrowed his eyes slightly. 

  
"I’m sorry."

  
Mulder waved it off.

  
"It was a long time ago."

  
He could feel the green eyed man scrutinizing him. What a sight he must be giving. He’d loosened the tie, unbuttoned the top of his formal shirt and rolled up the sleeves. There wasn’t much about the dress pants he could do, but the jacket he had discarded already as he walked inside the bar and had tossed it on the rack. Mulder was certain his hair was mussed up from running his hands through it multiple times during his wild goose chase. Determined, Mulder lifted his refilled glass and took a sip.

  
"You play pool, by any chance?"

*** 

Dean Winchester was trying to read the man at the bar that listened to his phone conversation and thought he had to comment. He was dressed like someone who worked behind a desk and yet, Dean couldn’t picture him as someone who pushed pencils. There was something about him that raised his alarm bells, although the beer in front of suit-and-tie man obviously wasn’t his first and it was beginning to show.

  
Of course Dean played pool. Usually to hustle some poor guys out of their dollars, but tonight it actually seemed that he could just play for fun’s sake for once. Maybe that’d give him the chance to figure out what had triggered his alarm. Dean wasn’t scared. For all he cared, that guy could be a hot shot sheriff of some hillbilly town nearby. He was pretty certain there was nobody looking for him in Virginia.

  
"Sure," he replied with a measured smirk and stuffed the last onion ring in his mouth before finishing his beer.

  
"Wonderful," his opponent smiled cheerfully. "I’m Mulder, by the way. Fox Mulder. But… ah, just stick to Mulder, will you?"

  
There was something pleading in Mulder’s eyes and Dean got it. Really. Way to stick out with a name like Fox. As if never growing into your nose wasn’t bad enough. For a split second Dean worried he had said that out loud. Then he noticed the alarm bell in his head ringing a bit louder. Mulder. He was sure he’d heard that name before. Or read it. 

  
"Dean," he replied evenly, trying not to give away his premonition. The men shook hands and strolled over to the pool tables. There were quite a few people still seated at their tables, but not many were playing pool. At the far end of the gaming section, a girl was trading cues with the guys she was playing with. Mulder and Dean opted for a table in the opposite corner. Mulder then ordered two beers and Dean lined up his cue for the break.

  
"So, you’re waiting for your sister?"

  
Dean buried the first ball and debated whether to rectify the misunderstanding or not. Mulder seemed like a nice guy. But something inside Dean wanted to see the look on his face when he found out that 'Samantha' was a 6ft4 sasquatch.

  
"Something like that," he replied mysteriously and walked around the table to line up his next shot. Mulder accepted the beer Bindy-Sue brought and set Dean’s down on the side table before taking a big sip from his glass.

  
"Women," Mulder continued. "They always make you wait. God knows how often I’ve had to wait on Scully."

  
Dean felt a tremor running down his spine and he almost messed up his shot. Scully. Mulder and Scully. Now he knew why his alarm bells were ringing and where he’d seen the names. His father had mentioned the two in his journal. FBI. Mulder seemed open to hunting business, while Scully was always skeptical. Just his luck. The ball hit the pocket.

  
"Who’s Scully?"

  
"My partner. We work together. When she’s not trying to sabotage my theories," Mulder explained.

  
"Sabotage your theories?" Dean was slightly confused. "If she sabotages your work, transfer her ass."

  
Mulder chuckled.

  
"No can do, man. They sent her to spy on me. But now, I’m not sure I could do what I’m doing without her."

  
Another two balls hit the pockets.

  
"So, whatcha doing?"

  
Mulder set his glass down with a bang, causing Dean to pause his concentration to shoot him a curious glance. Mulder’s forehead crinkled as he was debating whether to hit Dean with the full truth or present him with a watered down version.

  
"I work for the FBI, trying to solve spooky stuff."

  
Dean missed the pocket. He had expected anything from merely FBI to any kind of made up job, but not the straightforward truth. He sighed and looked up.

  
"Spooky, eh?"

  
"Spooky Mulder, that’s me," Mulder offered a fake smile as he chalked his cue. Dean stepped back from their pool table and leaned on the empty neighboring one.

  
"What’s so spooky then, if you don’t mind me asking?"

  
Mulder aimed, changed his stance and aimed again before pocketing his first ball. 

  
"You don’t wanna know, man," he replied. "I said too much already."

  
"No, really," Dean encouraged the FBI man. "I’ve seen my share of weird. Promise I won’t laugh."

  
Mulder missed his second shot and scrutinized Dean’s demeanor, trying to figure out if the younger, but slightly taller man was serious or poking fun already. He determined that Dean looked serious enough and decided to hit him full on.

  
"Weird as investigating vampires?"

  
Mulder expected peals of laughter and the request to do a reality check. Instead, Dean was quiet. Mulder looked up to see the man purse his lips, nodding, as he prepared his cue and his shot.

  
"Did you kill them?"

  
Now that was about the last question Mulder had expected. He was still on the fence whether Dean was just pulling his leg or not, but he had put the big toe in the water, might as well jump in all the way.

  
"No. The stakes didn’t really seem to work. Or rather, they just worked as long as they didn’t get removed," he provided.

  
"Dude, forget stakes or garlic or sunlight. You gotta take their heads off." Dean sounded more exasperated than amused and sunk the next ball. Mulder stiffened and when Dean looked up, he found the other man’s hazel eyes stare at him, incredulous.

  
"What?" Mulder croaked.

  
"Machete works best," Dean ploughed on as if he was talking about the best way to take down weeds. "But you have to swing hard, cause if you don’t, it’s really nasty."

  
"Wow." Mulder sounded stunned. "You… are serious, right? I expected you to, I don’t know, laugh at me. But this?"

  
"You were the one to mention monsters," Dean shrugged before studying the pool table to line up his next shot.

  
"As I said… ah well, nevermind. So… you know about vampires?"

  
Dean sunk the ball and then nodded.

  
"I know a hell lot more, too." He paused for a moment to take a sip from his beer. "Now please don’t tell me you got the idea to stake a vamp from watching Dracula."

  
Mulder chuckled.

  
"You know, I’ve had a contact once who knew a lot about all kinds of weird. He might have mentioned a machete, too," Mulder mused, trying to remember what X had really said.

  
"Now why didn’t you ask him then when you had the vamp on your hands?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

  
"Because he’s dead. Was back then, too. Got shot in front of my front door no less," Mulder replied.

  
"Ouch," Dean cringed. "That sucks. What did he get killed for?"

  
Mulder was quiet. What was he doing talking to a stranger about work, and things like vampires in particular. Every normal person would have called the loony bin to pick him up, already. This Dean, he sure was talking like he knew things. Discarding all doubts, Mulder decided that if Dean hadn’t bailed yet, chances were good that he wouldn’t.

  
"He was an informant of mine. I guess the Syndicate wasn’t impressed with him tipping me off."

  
"Syndicate. Sounds like something Rufus would go on about," Dean mumbled before aiming to kill the game off by pocketing all his remaining balls.

  
"Rufus?" Mulder echoed. How curious that Dean would mention the only name Mulder had ever been able to vaguely connect to his informant, Mr. X. Could it be the same person?

  
"Yeah. He’s kinda crazy, but he’s a good man, a good hunter."

  
That settled it. X was dead and Dean was talking like this Rufus was still alive and… hunting. Dean announced which balls he would pocket where and followed through. Then he dedicated himself to his beer while Mulder reset the game.

  
"Hunter, as in deer?" Mulder asked innocently as he chalked his cue. He had worked a few cases over the years where the hushed talk about hunters had reached his ears. He found they had been referring to the monsters instead of wildlife. But whenever he had tried to learn more, people had stopped talking to him.

  
"No," Dean replied as he watched Mulder execute the break. One of the agent’s balls found his way into a pocket. "As in monsters. Vampires. Witches. Wendigos."

  
Another ball hit the pocket. There was no way Mulder would let Dean think he was the only one who could handle a cue.

  
"What’s a wendigo?"

  
Dean emptied his glass and contemplated Mulder’s casual curiosity.

  
"Ancient creature. Fugly as hell. According to the Natives they were once human and now live on human flesh."

  
"So, they’re cannibals?"

  
"That’s right. Gives them incredible speed and strength. But they’re far from being anything like human. Live in the woods, camouflaged by their barky skin, stay underground or in caves and mines. They snatch people and snack on them."

  
Mulder, who had been aiming his cue, aborted his move.

  
"You sure they‘re called wendigo? Sounds like a mothman to me."

  
"Mothman? Really?" Dean broke out in laughter. "Dude, that sounds so lame."

  
"It was anything but lame when it came at Scully and me," Mulder replied. "Still got the scars if you wanna see."

  
"You got caught by one?" Immediately Dean was all ears. Mulder nodded.

  
"One scratched me up good and then Scully fell into their lair. I kinda dropped in, too."

  
"Did you torch the sucker?"

  
Mulder, who had been about to play, missed the pocket at those words. He grimaced as he lifted his head.

  
"Torch it?"

  
"Fire is the only way to kill them," Dean nodded. "Please don’t tell me you let it get away."

  
"We got one, I think. But we didn‘t burn it. I do think there were two, though."

  
"Huh, that’s rare," Dean started. "Maybe we are talking about different things?"

  
"I doubt it," Mulder replied. "It’s your turn."

  
Dean nodded and signaled to Bindy-Sue for more beer. Then he lined up his shot. He didn’t miss.

  
"You ever come across a shapeshifter?" he then asked casually.

  
Mulder pondered his response. He had come across two types, one of them being alien. So far they hadn’t talked about anything alien and he wasn’t about to risk being laughed at. Images of suddenly seeing himself stand opposite of someone, or something, that looked exactly like him, flashed through his mind.

  
"I have," he confirmed. "It was… unsettling, and I still have no idea how that is possible."

  
"Yeah," Dean snorted. "When the things start wearing your face it gets a bit personal."

  
He resumed his game and it was quiet but for the clacking of the balls hitting each other and the pocket. Mulder drained the last of his beer and looked around. There were still people at the tables, a group of young folks were busy at the dart board, trying to outdo each other. The counter was deserted, but for a drunk man sleeping on the stool. According to his watch, the bar would still be open for the bigger part of an hour. Suddenly he wondered when Dean’s sister would show up. He was curious.

  
"What was the scariest creature you’ve ever come across?" Mulder asked suddenly, causing Dean to almost miss his shot. 

  
"Scary?" Dean frowned. "They’re all scary in their own right."

  
"True," Mulder nodded. "Well, tell me, you ever seen something others couldn’t see?"

  
Dean aborted his next shot and turned to face Mulder. 

  
"Too damn often, dude. Reapers, for instance."

  
"Reapers?" Mulder sounded incredulous.

  
"Yeah. Don’t ask, man. Don’t ask."

  
For some reason Mulder thought this was one request he would honor without question. Reapers sounded almost worse than aliens.

  
"I once saw some monster that was hiding in the light, turning people to zombies or something. Scary as hell."

  
Dean regarded him, wide eyed. 

  
"Hiding in the light? The hell you mean?"

  
"Well, it appeared like a perfectly normal human when you looked straight at it. But if you knew to squint at a certain angle, almost like trying to peak between rays of light, you could see its true form," Mulder explained and cringed at how pathetic he sounded.

  
"Sorry to say, man, but that sounds crazy."

  
Dean really looked sorry.

  
"I know. They all thought so. So they tied me to a bed in a hospital, pumped me full of trancs and what not. If my skeptical Scully hadn’t somehow managed to also look between the rays, I’d be a zombie by now."

  
"She saved you?"

  
Mulder nodded.

  
"Even though she thought you were crazy?"

  
Mulder added a shrug to his nod.

  
"Man, if that’s not love then I don’t know."

  
Mulder coughed at Dean’s statement and was glad he hadn’t been drinking beer when the younger man spoke. Dean winked and turned once more to the table, just to conclude the game with a confident shot.

  
Their refills arrived just as Mulder broke the triangle yet again. He was determined not to give Dean a chance at this round. Dean watched the agent as he began pocketing his balls.

  
"You know what proved to be the scariest monsters out there, though? Humans, Mulder. Humans."

  
Mulder looked up with a raised eyebrow and a lopsided grin.

  
"Don’t get me wrong, dude. They’re all scary. Werewolves, vampires, ghouls, witches, demons, ghosts, rugarus, wraiths, you name it. But humans? We came across some inbred yahoos once and you know what their game was? Hunting. Humans."

  
Mulder almost stuttered at the list, but decided not to let himself being distracted. Humans, however, caught his attention. He took a deep breath and exhaled, before pocketing the eight ball for the first time. Grabbing his beer, he took a big sip and savoured it. 

  
"Humans?"

  
"A bunch of degenerate lunatics, they hunted people, kept them in cages, killed them, made them into human ashtrays and I’m sure they ate them, too. Almost took my eye back then."

  
Dean had almost wanted to tell Mulder about the hot poker they stuck in his shoulder instead, but caught himself in time to realize that if Mulder should ask for proof, he had no scar to show him. All the marks on his body had been erased when that clueless angel had raised him from perdition. 

  
"Tell me about it," Mulder groaned. "Scully and I had to deal with a family of inbreds once. They were burying disformed babies alive and killed anyone who wanted to find out what was going on inside the house."

  
Dean pulled a face.

  
"I think I need a real drink. Whiskey?"

  
Mulder emptied his beer and nodded. Back on their bar stools, Mulder knocked back the whiskey. As he slammed the glass on the counter, the door opened and a giant of a man with long, floppy hair entered. The newcomer‘s vigilant eyes scanned over the people at the tables, the dart throwing youngsters and everyone else in the room including Bindy-Sue behind the counter and then settled on Dean.

  
A few moments later, the tall man strode over and slid onto the empty bar stool on the other side of Dean, clasping his shoulder briefly in greeting. Dean turned to look at him and grinned.

  
"You found me," Dean drawled, winking at his brother. "Beer or whiskey?"

  
"I… no, Dean. Not now."

  
Dean slowly shook his head. 

  
"You really have to learn to have some fun, dude. Look at Mulder, here. He knows how to have fun," Dean smirked.

  
"Scully doesn’t think so," Mulder muttered. "So, who’s your friend?"

  
Dean, who’d been sticking out his tongue at the other man in a petulant way, turned his attention back to Mulder.

  
"Huh, oh yeah. Well, Agent Mulder, FBI, meet Sam, my brother."

  
Sam’s eyes widened comically as he heard his brother introduce the man as FBI. What on earth was he thinking? Mulder, however, opened his mouth, but no words came out. He looked back and forth between the brothers and then snatched the whiskey, Dean had yet to touch. He poured it down his throat and shook his head.

  
Slowly, Sam began to realize that Agent Mulder for whatever reason had no clue, who they were. Still, the agent’s reaction left him puzzled.

  
"What’s wrong, Dean? Why’s he looking at me like I’ve got three heads?"

  
Dean plastered a happy, exaggerated smile on his face.

  
"Well, he kinda expected you to be a girl."

  
"He what?"

  
It was Sam’s turn to look bewildered. This time, the answer came from Mulder, however.

  
" ' _Yes, Samantha. I’ll wait right here_.' "

  
Understanding dawned on Sam’s face and he punched Dean’s shoulder.

  
"Jerk."

  
Dean ignored the dull pain where Sam's fist had connected and broke into a broad smirk.

  
"Bitch."


End file.
